


The Making of a Match

by past_memories



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/past_memories/pseuds/past_memories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the tender ages of seven and ten, respectively, Molly Hopper and Sherlock Holmes knew that they hated each other. Ten years later nothing and nothing much has changed. Molly is sent off by her well meaning mother to stay with the Holmes to 'get acquainted with people' which Molly know means 'to get a husband'. Sherlock is told that he needs to pick a wife soon before his mother runs out of patience and picks one for him. When they are both thrown together, it doesn't take long for everyone else but the two of them to realize that Sherlock and Molly are perfect together. So what happens when an entire household and even some neighbors decide to play matchmakers? A little chaos, some fun, and maybe even a little love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and ready to go! Reviews would be much appreciated. Tell me what you think.

At the tender ages of seven and ten, respectively, Molly Hopper and Sherlock Holmes were meeting for the first time. Their parents were great friends and Molly’s mother had finally decided that it was time the two children become acquainted with one another. Molly’s hair had been curled and brought into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her mother had wiped off the few tears that had escaped, caused by the pain that was coursing through Molly’s scalp, and they had gotten into the carriage. Molly was wearing her best dress and found it very difficult to sit down. She felt, all around, completely uncomfortable and particularly annoyed.

On the other side of the spectrum, Sherlock Holmes was getting a lecture from his parents about how important it was that he be nice to this girl.

“You may even like her.” His mother had told him. He waited until his parents had left the room to roll his eyes.

 

The Hooper’s carriage arrived shortly after noon. Molly stepped out and tried not to gawk at the large manor house that was in front of her. She had been privileged her whole life, but had never seen a house this large. While the adults stood and talked, the children were left to meet each other.

“They do make a very lovely couple, don’t they?” Mrs. Holmes remarked, watching as Molly and Sherlock shook hands.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, I’m Sherlock.” The boy said, his tone dull and board.

“I’m Molly.”

“I know that, stupid.” Molly recoiled.

“There’s no need to be rude.” Molly chastised.

“Don’t tell me what to do. You aren’t my mother.”

“Well, there’s still no reason to be mean.” Molly replied.

“Really? I have to spend my whole day with some stupid girl.”

“Well, I have to spend my day with you.” Molly bit back.

“I could be out having an adventure right now if it wasn’t for you, imbecile. Do you even know what ‘imbecilic’ means?”

“Yes, of course I do! And my father always says, if you don’t have anything nice to say-”

“I don’t care what your father says! He’s an idiot.”

Molly’s fists balled up and her face redden. “You take that back.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Sherlock smirked.

Suddenly, a cry was heard and the parents rushed across the lawn to the children to see what had happened. Sherlock was wiping mud off of his face and Molly was standing there, her right hand covered in mud and her face cherry red.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again! Take it back.” Molly threatened, her eyes still on Sherlock.

“I think you got some in my eye.”

“Molly, dear what happened?” Mr. Hooper asked, but his daughter ignored him.

“Take it back, Sherlock.” Molly said, her tone menacing.

“Is there some up my nose?” Sherlock grumbled.

“Take…it…back.” Sherlock stared at Molly, trying to make sense of the younger girl. He must have struck some kind of cord, but which one? Something about her father, most likely. He turned his head slightly to stare at Mr. Hooper. He was a normal sort of man with brown hair and eyes. He wore nicer clothing, but he didn’t flaunt his wealth like some people. So what was it about him that made Molly so angry?

“Oh.” Sherlock’s eyes widened as he noticed how pale Mr. Hopper was. The older man had done a good enough job of hiding it, but Sherlock could tell he was sick. And judging by the handkerchief stained with blood that was peeking out of his pocket, he wasn’t getting any better.

He turned back to Molly. “I’m sorry.”

“Molly you shouldn’t have done that!” Mrs. Hooper scolded.

“It’s my fault. I made her angry.” Sherlock admitted. “I deserved it.”

“What did he do to make you angry?” Mr. Hooper asked, kneeling down in front of his daughter to get a better look at her face. A few tears welled up in her eyes, but none came out.

“Nothing Papa. I don’t want to talk about it.” She said quietly, giving a glace over to Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

 

The Hoopers stayed for a little over a week. Sherlock and Molly refused to even go near each other, let alone be in the same room. Molly couldn’t make herself go near this boy who had insulted her and her family and Sherlock really didn’t want to argue with that. So the Hoopers left having not gotten anything more out of the trip than some hurt feelings and muddied children. About a year after the fateful visit, Molly Hooper became fatherless. She had a small dowry that was left to her by her father, so she was less than destitute. However, she was without a father figure and her mother could not be expected to stay single. Two years after her father’s death, she moved with her mother into their new home. Mrs. Hooper had now become Mrs. Stamford.

“What am I supposed to call him, mama? What if he doesn’t like me? I’m not his child; he doesn’t have to like me.”

“Molly, dear he’s going to love you. He is a nice man, I promise.”

“I’ve never met him. What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Molly.” Her mother gently placed her hands on Molly’s cheeks. “He’s going to love you.”

They pulled up to a small manor house and a stout man came down the steps to greet them at the carriage. Molly shyly got out and watched as her mother greeted the man. He had a cheerful face and Molly was happy to see him smile at her mother. Then he turned to her. “And this must be Miss Molly, who I’ve heard so much about.”

“I’m sorry to be rude sir, but I don’t know what to call you. You are not my father, sir.”

The man looked a little shocked at the bluntness but his smile remained. “Well, you are right…You may call me Uncle Michael, if you like.”

“That…that sounds wonderful.” Molly smiled “Uncle Michael.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the incredibly long wait. Life got in the way. Hey, what can you do? Thank you to everyone that has read this and especially the people who have commented. Enjoy!

“Lady Hooper! Lady Hooper, where are you? ”

“I’m over here Matilda.” Molly smiled, climbing down from a tree.

“What are you doing up there? You know how your mother hates it!” the cook chastised.

“I was just thinking.” Molly shrugged. “That’s hardly anything bad.”

Matilda clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “You know your mother dislikes it. She’s afraid you might get hurt.”

“I think she’s much more afraid of the gossip than she is of me getting hurt, Matilda.”

The cook shook her head. “Anyway, your mother was looking for you. She has the whole household on your tail.”

“Would she have it any other way?” Molly chuckled, before making her way from the garden back to the manor. Mathilda followed behind, mumbling about how Molly was going to get herself in trouble someday. When Molly walked through the kitchen door, she noticed that the whole household was in a frenzy.

“What’s going on?” Molly asked, pulling aside on of the maids.

“Lady Stamford has us preparing your departure, miss. She’s only told us it was happening today. We’re rushing to pack everything.”

“Departure? Where on earth am I going?”

“Not sure miss, although I heard the Holmes’s manor house mentioned.” The maid quickly scurried away.

“You have got to be joking.” Molly muttered before running up the steps, intent on finding her mother at once.

Coincidentally, Molly ran into her mother in a hallway. The older woman was busy overseeing the packing that she barely noticed Molly.

“Did you forget to mention something, Mother?” Molly asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Oh, Molly dear there you are. I need you to change your clothes. You’re going to see the Holmes.”

“Yes, I understood that when a maid informed me of it. I was wondering why my own mother seemed to have forgotten to mention it to me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, it certainly was that!” Molly yelled. All of the servants that were bustling about stopped and starred for a moment before they went on with their business.

“Could we talk about this somewhere else?”

“Mama, I don’t want to go. Why do I have to go?”

“This is a good chance for you. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes are delighted to have you. And besides, this is a very good chance for you to get acquainted with some new company.”

“So you’re sending me off to find a husband!”

“Molly-”

“I threw mud at Sherlock’s head! He hates me!”

“Molly, that was years ago. You’re twenty now and it is time that you found a husband.”

“Fine! I will go Mama…but-”

“But?”

“You have to let me bring my books.”

Lady Stamford heaved a sigh. “Very well.”

* * *

 

After changing from her dress that slightly resembled the maid’s clothes, Molly sat gently in the carriage.

“I think this corset is squishing most of my internal organs.” Molly grumbled.

“Hush that now. I want you to be on your best behavior. No medical talk or climbing trees and all that. You must be a proper lady, and that means wearing a corset!”

“Molly, which ones are internal organs?” The small boy standing next to Molly’s mother asked.

“They’re the organs inside your body, like your heart and your lungs, Archie.” Molly smiled down at her little brother. He was only eight, but was smarter than most children, though the privet tutelage may have been the cause of that.

“And remember Molly-” Mrs. Stamford smiled, with a gleam in her eye “there is to be no mud throwing.”

And so it was with a heavy heart but a slight bit of optimism that Molly Hooper set off towards Woodcroft Abbey.

* * *

 

“Sherlock, I do wish you would at least pretend to be capable of going five minutes without offending someone.”

“Shut up Mycroft.” Sherlock snapped, flopping into a chair.

“What was the trouble with this poor woman?”

“She was idiotic.”

“And she was wealthy. You’re the second child; you don’t have the luxury of being that picky.”

“I may do what I please Mycroft. Thankfully, that was the last woman that mother and father are going to throw at me for some time.”

“Why do you say that?” Mycroft asked, a small smirk gracing his lips. “Mother promised that Miss…whatever-her-name-was, that she was going to be the last one.”

“I fear, brother dear, that mother may have lied to you.” Mycroft’s smirk was now at full force.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock turned slowly to face his brother, his tone menacing.

“Mother and father have invited a Miss Hooper to join us for some time. At the latest estimate, she will be here at least a couple of months, possibly a year.”

“The same Miss Hooper that threw mud at me when we were younger? Why on earth is she coming here?”

“I do believe that our parents want you to marry her.”

Sherlock gave a disgusted look. “Why on earth would I marry that scrawny, little-”

“Now Sherlock, you mustn’t forget that Miss Hooper is not the same girl as she was when you two last met.”

“No, you’re right. She’s older now.”

“Sherlock…” His brother warned “You are not to be rude to this girl. She has had a tough time since her father died and you are expected to at least be polite.”

“That sounds hard.” Sherlock whined.

“Behave yourself.” Mycroft warned, before leaving his little brother to brood.


End file.
